The Dragonbone Catacombs
by BecauseSheToldMeTo
Summary: Texts of the Fire Nation, past, present and future. Drabbles, one-shots, so on. Rated T just in case.
1. Death of the Dragons

_This started as an idea that popped into my head during my American History class while my instructor was going on about differing views of the Founders and all that... I took the fictional license in naming the Dragons and so on. I don't quite see how Sozin could have beat a dragon, but this is what my mind led me to and I chose to go with it. So sad that it seems to have happened, considering the idea he came up with to kill dragons for glory-though in my opinion he just said that to get people rallied up to do it. He had darker incentives behind the plan that he just never told anyone about. I'm under the belief that their philosophy that fire should not be fueled by hate and anger, and that it shouldn't be used to really destroy anyone-in a sense-led them to losing against firebenders. D: Poor Dragons. (Also, I'm going on the basis of my other story,_ "The Shells of the Past", i_n that dragons can communicate to humans with their minds. In the case of Ran and Shao, they were OLD, so they could transmit actual words. In Ju-Long's case, he's rather young for a dragon, so he can only transmit images and feelings.)_

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Ju-Long had had a choice; the pretentious young Fire Lord, or the veracious Avatar, and he'd made his decision, leaving An—or the soon to be dubbed "Fang"—to the other.

Sozin held a deep desire for change, for a fantastic new future, and it was that hunger that had lured the great Master to him.

He'd chosen him for his inner fire, as bright and warm as the sun; he'd chosen him for his passion that blazed bright, the ambition that shone in his eyes. Ju-Long had chosen him because the man's spirit was identical to his own, or as identical as a human soul could be to a dragon's.

He'd presented himself to Sozin; passed on images of loyalty, alliance, and kinship. From then on he had been at the man's side, watching things unfold with minute indifference. He provided counsel on occasion, though for the most part remained silent.

Over the years, a change began to occur in Ju-Long's chosen consort. The passion led to transgression, the ambition to intemperance. The central flare in the man was kindling into that of a tyrant, distorting into something unrecognizable but ugly. Yet Ju-Long's love for the man that had grown over the years made him ignorant to these changes. He chose to overlook them.

He was there when Sozin saw the volcanic disturbance in the distance, felt a twinge of pride and assurance when the man put aside the past grudges between himself and the Avatar and chose to go see if his old friend was all right. The dragon didn't bother to notice the contemplative silence Sozin was in the whole way there.

He was there when Sozin beckoned to him from the ground, and he willingly came to allow the man onto his back, and it was only as he was soaring away from the carnage that he realized what the man was doing—had done. He felt the snuffing of both An's life and the Avatar's, and his spirit keened for the lost soul he was now associated with.

For years he held his silence, the anger and anguish building inside. Sozin had committed an unforgivable sin—two unforgivable sins. He had murdered the Avatar, and Ju-Long could not forget the death of his fellow, An. But Sozin had done it for a reason, stood behind this belief, so could Ju-Long really fault him for it?

And then it happened: the decree for the genocide of the Air Nomads; the condemning deed that the dragon could not ignore. The hurt that had been building in him for so long finally came out. Sozin went to board him and he backed away, roaring. He had to right the wrong he had committed by allowing this to get as far as it had. He was a dragon, and while Sozin had been his friend, his first duty was to his kind—and to the world and its balance. Fire was not supposed to be used in the manner Sozin had planned.

He stood where he was, denying Sozin access, and the man stood there, wrinkled face stretched in shock that quickly fell to a mangled look of anger as Ju-Long passed onto him his feelings and intent. Pictures of the sun, of life, of the true meaning of firebending and the punishment for abusing the element, were all conveyed. With each, Sozin's face grew angrier.

"The Nomads are weak," the man said. "And the Avatar would once again try to stand in my way. We of the Fire Nation are blessed with power and prosperity. We cannot just sit back and allow our gift to die. Firebending is power—we will adhere to the old ways no longer."

The fight that followed was staggering. Those at the palace who were witness to the spectacle later testified to seeing their Lord fight like a dragon himself. Flames as wide as buildings and as hot as the sun blazed all around without ceasing, burning anything in their wake to ash. Dragon and man were caught in a duel to the death, neither giving in and each giving as much as they had. Colors of red, yellow, and orange burned into the minds of everyone watching. The only difference was that the dragon did not want to kill the man.

Then the final blow was struck—Ju-Long fell. He watched through vision fading to red as his former ally came to stand over his dying body. The old man was panting, rivers of sweat running down his face ,and his robes were soaked through with persperation-or what might have been blood.

"How can creatures so powerful," Sozin said, "follow a philosophy so weak?" He held solemnity in his tone as he gazed down at Ju-Long, who found that each ragged breath he took sent daggers of hot pain all through his body. Then the Fire Lord bowed. A deep bow, reverential; for a worthy foe? When he straightened, he said, "I must rid the world of such weak traditions. Along with the Air Nation, the dragons will fall. We, the Fire Nation, will prove to one and all our might and power—that our ways are the only ways."

The Fire Lord continued speaking, but at this point Ju-Long could no longer hear him. The man's voice was reverberating, nothing but a loud hum that was growing fainter. Red clouded the great beast's vision until all he could see was fire, all he could _feel _was fire. Then he was drowning… drowning in red.


	2. Dark Shadows

_This is for the community avatar_500 and their prompt #16: Mad. Takes place a few days before Azula's coronation when her paranoia really starts to sink in and she can't sleep. There's a hint of a hallucination of her mother, too. _

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_**Dark Shadows**_

Dark shadows flitted outside her bedroom window. She could hear them tapping against the frame, trying to get in. The candles were the only things keeping them at bay, except she didn't know how long that would last. They were here to kill her—she didn't know who or even what they might be, but there was no doubting they were out there. They'd been creeping along the corners of her mind for years and had finally found a way to break free.

Mai and Ty Lee had something to do with it, that she was sure of. She'd been able to hold back the specters with graceful ease until the two girls—her supposed _friends_—had betrayed her. The thought made her scowl down at her sheets and hug her legs tighter. Why did it bother her so much? They'd just been pawns in her grand scheme, nobodies she'd so graciously allowed to travel with her so that she could draw on their strengths and use them to her advantage. She'd known from a very young age that you shouldn't grow attached to something because that something couldn't last forever. It would eventually die, or leave.

For the briefest of moments, beyond the many candles she had set up around her on the bed, Azula saw a tall figure move in the gloom. It was familiar, though hooded, but before she could distinguish who it was, the shadow melted away and joined the others.

The palace was the same as always, though more quiet now that her father had gone off to become Phoenix King; however, the shadows that now kept her company made the halls seem larger than she remembered. She'd never quite realized how vulnerable she was in such spacious corridors, had never noticed how often her back was exposed. The servants had changed in demeanor: they now had malicious eyes that glowed red when they thought she wasn't looking. They thought she was weak, not able to take the place of her father. She knew they all wanted her dead—but she was sharp. She would not be caught with her guard down.

No one could be trusted.


	3. Like a Bird

_Little something I wrote for my friend Alina, who wanted me to enter it into a Maiko fic contest, but it's too short. May her visions of Zuko's son being emo be forever dashed. I think he's been hanging around Toph and Sokka a little too much. xD This was actually going to be something darker, involving Mai, and that's how it started, but nothing worked. So my friend Kodi came up with the idea that Zuko's angry because of something his stupid son did. AND THUS A FIC WAS BORN. Thanks Kodi! The conversation we had for this in terms of plotting was pure gold. xD This work isn't really one of my best, but I got it off my chest. And I've no idea where Mai is. Visiting family? Diplomat stuff? -shrug- Also, Keizo is not a character I'm particularly fond of, at least not as Zuko's son. I meant for him to be different, but you know how some characters get minds of their own. I'm scrapping him after this.  
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_Kodi: idk i still like the whole trying to fly like azula thing XD  
Me: __Yes. So do I. But how would I word that? xD He can't be like, "I WAS TRYING TO FLY LIKE MY AUNT AZULA."_

_Me: I hate to tell you this, my lord, but... your son's face... it's broken.  
Kodi: i sewed it back together best i could but... it's so bad we ran out of string  
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_**Like a Bird**_

The red curtains collected at his feet as he tore them from their hangings. There was satisfaction in how the material gave in so easily to his anger, in the noise the silk made as it cleaved in two, but it wasn't enough. He had nothing to vent toward, nothing to wreck.

He let out a yell of frustration and punched out at the floor, a ribbon of flame launching from his fist and igniting the mess he had made. Smoke curled through the air.

Mai would have scolded him for acting this way. Would have told him that bottling up his frustrations wasn't going to help anything; that at thirty-two, it was time he grew up and stopped throwing tantrums all the time. What else could he do, though? Keizo had acted irrationally, had almost gotten himself killed_. Again. _And for what?

"Lord Zuko?"

Zuko whirled around. His temper had flared to the point of snapping at the intruder, but when he saw who it was that stood in the doorway of his chamber, he softened somewhat. "What is it? Is he all right?" He took a step forward, clenched fists turning into open palms, practically begging for news.

Sage Shyu gave no indication that he was aware of the smoking pile of cloth behind the tempered lord, though Zuko knew he had to have noticed. The smell of burnt silk was filling the room, and the tattered remains that hung limply from their golden rods in the window sent jagged shadows across the walls and floor. The old man simply looked at him, arms folded neatly into his long, red sleeves. "Physician Hong would like to speak with you," he said.

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"Just some minor cuts, a few broken bones. Nothing a bit of time won't heal." The hunched physician smiled and patted him on the arm. "He'll be fine."

Zuko heaved a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping. The hall outside his son's room seemed to expand from the released tension.

"He's awake right now, if you wanted to see him. But mi'lord," he added as Zuko went to open the door, "no quarreling or rebukes today. He needs to take it easy."

These words were ignored, of course. How could he not be mad? Sons weren't supposed to go off and do stupid things, especially when they knew better. He certainly hadn't acted this when he was fourteen.

The room was bright with sunlight. Every window was open. His son's bed, big enough to hold at least five people, was nearest to the balcony doors. This was where Keizo lay, propped up against his pillows. A girl—the one Zuko knew to be his son's newest girlfriend—was sitting at the side of the bed on a stool, Keizo's hand gripped tenderly between hers. The two of them looked up when he came in, and the girl quickly stood to bow when she saw who he was.

"I was wondering when you'd be back in," Keizo said, grinning wide and then grimacing at the pain it cost him. There were cuts all over his face—a particularly large gash over his nose—and his unclothed chest was wrapped in white bandages. Zuko could make out a few bruises here and there along the boy's left arm, but the other arm was completely wrapped and it hung over his chest in a sling. One leg lay atop two red pillows, wrapped and in a splint. Noticing his father's wandering eyes, Keizo frowned a little and looked down at his lap. "I'm really sorry, dad."

There was a tutting noise at this, and Zuko looked to the girl. "You should be," she said. She was looking at Keizo reproachfully. "What you did was really dumb. You could have died."

This girl, whatever her name was, was a bit different from the other girls that Zuko usually saw his son with. Her black hair was long, even when pulled back, and adorned with more hair ornaments of various colors than he would have thought possible. Her clothes reminded him of something Ty Lee would wear, in that there was more skin than clothes, and they were purple. She looked like something torn out of a circus poster.

_Where does he find these people_? Zuko wondered.

"I wasn't meant to fall like that, Kimiko. I was trying to show you how you can propel yourself in the air by using firebending. You know, like a bird." Keizo flapped his good arm in the air like a bird.

"You jumped off of a three-story building and fell on your face. How is that like a bird? Last I checked, birds don't fall and break into a million pieces."

"Ah, come on! I was up there for at least ten seconds before I fell."

"Admit it. You were just showing off like an idiot."

There was a period of silence after this as Keizo seemed to consider the claim. Zuko was under the impression that the two of them had forgotten he was still in the room, and he felt a heat rising to his face when he realized that he was in the middle of a teenage love spat. He recognized the warning signs of what was coming, but could do nothing to stop it. He was suddenly rooted to the spot.

"All right. I admit it. Now what?" His son grinned again. The boy looked like he would have folded his arms smugly if he could, and what followed this was a hard punch to his bruised arm, making him cry out in pain and Zuko flinch. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an idiot." She kept her fist poised, as if ready to strike again, but just went on glaring.

There was pain visible on Keizo's face as he rubbed his newly assaulted arm, but it vanished soon after. He looked to Kimiko with a curious frown, then said, "Kiss me."

"What?" The upraised fist lowered, caught off guard.

"You're really pretty when you're angry."

Another moment of silence and then Kimiko moved toward the bed, but by this time Zuko had turned around and fled out of the room as fast as he could. He'd let Mai deal with the kid when she got home.


	4. Thrill

_Little something for LJ Avatar_500's prompt Light. Certain words were used subliminally to address Ursa's coming predatory actions, like "crouch". Symbolism in Azula appearing at the end.. I'm not so good with the dark stuff, but I tried. : D  
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**Thrill**

She found the source of the noise in the corner of the garden. A lone turtleduck lay exhausted in the grass, one wing held out to its side as though it were broken. The other wing was indistinguishable from what it should have been; crushed and bloody, feathers askew and stained with red. Though the bird looked on the verge of death, it somehow still had the energy to let out raucous trumpets of sound.

Ursa felt the stirrings of pity in her heart as she looked down on the poor creature. Closer inspection showed it to be no older than a few weeks, a duckling. It still had tufts of down on the back of its neck.

By the looks of the crimson smears in the grass, the baby had been attacked only a few hours ago when the sun had still been hidden behind the mountains. An owl-cat had probably snatched it from its nest and left it for some unseen reason. Its cries were for its mother—she recognized the sound, being a mom herself—but she knew its mother would not come. There was no hope for the little one.

She crouched forward and gently scooped the duckling up. Fresh blood oozed into her palm and revealed a terrible gash on the underside of its belly where its enemy had tried to crack into its still-hardening shell. At being lifted, the animal began to squall even louder, attempting to flap its useless wings to get away and only making its pain worse.

"There, there," she cooed, running her fingers down its soft neck. "There's nothing to worry about anymore."

Yet still it flailed and cried. Still it tried to live. Stubborn and willful, like her own son. She continued to rub it for a few more moments until it finally calmed and looked to her with pleading black eyes and then she found her fingers clasping around its small neck. A shiver of _something_ coursed up her spine as she felt how easy it was to just hold this dying creature in her hands. She was its last hope for life, a life she couldn't give it, and what she was about to do triggered something in the back of her mind.

I'm _excited_, she realized, feeling her heart race.

And with a little twist of her fingers and a minute _snap!_ it went limp. She watched as the lights faded from its eyes and felt the warmth of its blood grow cold on her hands. There was a moment of bliss—no, satisfaction? Triumph?—and then it was gone. The duckling was dead.

"Mom? Where are you? Zuzu's looking for you," came a call from across the way.

She buried the duckling under a bush outside the palace and never thought of it again, though she later felt the same irrepressible thrill during a man's last breath.


	5. Bones

_Just a little bleh I wrote for the LJ community ATLALAND's lottery. I really don't like it that much, but I save everything that I write!_

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**Bones**

Zuko shouldn't have been surprised by what he found at the Northern Air Temple. This was the temple that the Avatar _should_ have been at when the Fire nation had attacked, and so it was expected to see so much more damage here than he had at the other temples.

But why then did his heart pound the moment he stepped foot inside the desolate ruins? It wasn't excitement; he couldn't explain it, but he knew the Avatar was not here. Could the feeling gripping his heart be fear?

"Perhaps I should join you," his Uncle had said him as he'd prepared to enter. "The temple is large and you will not be able to search every room by yourself."

"No, Uncle. I want to do this on my own." He didn't want to say that he knew the Avatar was not here, not after having made his men come all the way here. He did not want to look incompetent. Pride made him step into the temple alone knowing he would find nothing.

The walls breathed, or so it felt as he walked through them. A place that should have felt dead was filled with the breaths of things he could not see. Every corner he turned it felt like he was being watched, followed, scrutinized. Shadows seemed to move in the corner of his vision and flitted out of sight when he whirled to look at them. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

As he journeyed deeper inside, the thickness in the air increased until he thought it might crush him under its weight. Something in his mind was screaming at him to run, turn around and look somewhere else, but be it his stubbornness or something else, he kept going.

For a place that had been uninhabited for a hundred years, the architecture still stood strong, though plants and roots crept in through minute cracks on the floor and walls. Sunlight shone in through fissures in the ceiling and left oddly-angled beams of light in the dust-filled air. There was something else, too. Something _alive_. Whispers were creeping along the edge of his thoughts and sending chills down his spine as they enticed him forward with beckoning fingers. _Come,_ they seemed to say. _Just a bit more._

He was just starting to wish that he'd allowed Uncle to come along with him when suddenly the hall he walked banked sharply and what he when he saw as he turned the corner made him cry out in shock and almost fall back.

Bones. Everywhere. The hall had led him to an open courtyard outside that was surrounded by walls of overgrown vegetation, and littering the cobblestones were hundreds upon hundreds of _bones_. And it was as if his presence awakened something in this secluded area, for the moment he eyed the human remains, a loud hum started up and his heart's pace increased tenfold. A sadness that was not his own clawed at his chest, a fear so great he felt he might drown in it.

Suddenly there were voices. Screams of women and children, the bellow of large animals in horrible agony. The skulls looked at him with accusing sockets and mocking grins and turned into nightmare visions of dying people. He staggered where he was, putting a hand against the nearest wall for support. With his other hand he clutched his head and tried to drown out the noise.

And just when he thought he could take no more, that the souls of the lost would swallow him whole, they stopped. He looked up at the tomb before him once more, and this time all he saw were bones again, not bodies, not the burned and mangled corpses of children. He was alone once more.

With shaking limbs and a racing heart, Zuko turned from the last resting place of hundreds of Air Nomads and headed out the way he came. He went slowly, deliberately, even though his heart was heavy with a loss and guilt he couldn't explain and an overwhelming fear that made him want to run and never stop.

He said nothing to Uncle, nothing to his crew, just boarded his ship and went to his cabin. For weeks his dreams would be haunted by the faces of the dead nomads he had seen and heard, haunted by their screams and their streams of blood. But over time his mind ended his torment with the conclusion that it had all been a dream; a lie. It had never happened.


	6. Confession

_A little something-something I wrote for badwolf_x over at Livejournal. I asked some friends for prompts to help me get out of my writer's slump and she gave me ./tumblr_lq1e3v5aPj1qjb61qo1_ and asked for it to be Ursa x Ozai. I came up with this. :)  
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_**Confession**_

Careful footsteps led her toward the prison. Her dark traveling cloak masked her form from curious eyes as she walked in the faded light of the moon. The city was quiet this time of night but for the chirping of lava-crickets, a noise she had missed in her time of exile.

She was glad to be back with her son after so long, glad to once again live in the place that would always be home to her heart; however, there was one last thing that needed to be done before her soul would be at peace.

Though the building was heavily guarded, the sentries made way for her when she lowered her hood, bowing their heads in respect and turning away to act as if they had never seen her. They knew why she was there. One man even pointed her in the needed direction while looking the other way without her having to say anything.

Words sat on the edge of her tongue, words that had so long been waiting to be used; words she hadn't even known had been there until it had been too late to use them. Now she had a chance, a chance to set things right for herself.

While large torches lined the walls, there was no warmth given by them. The handle to the cell door was cold to the touch.

With a loud creaking the door swung open, the soft light from the hall spilling into the small dark room and alighting on a huddled shadow behind the bars. The shadow moved at the noise, and a glowering face looked up at her.

She saw the sunken eyes widen in surprise, but the man quickly covered it up with a shadow of his old smug look.

"So. Come back, have you? I was getting tired of that traitor coming to ask of your whereabouts."

Ursa stepped into the din, taking in her former husband's haggard appearance and the smell of one who had not bathed in some time. He wore what looked like torn rags, and what parts of his greasy long hair that weren't tangled like the nests of animals fell around his shoulders and face in clumps. He sat on a dirty cot.

For a moment words failed her. It was hard to imagine that this unkempt human being had once been the strong, ambitious man she had wed. Yet the feeling was still there. A feeling it had taken so long for her to recognize, even after all he had done.

"I've come to tell you something," she finally said. "And I'm sorry it took so long for me to say it."

Ozai's brows rose high onto his forehead, eyes glinting with suspicion . "Oh?"

And then the words finally came, and she felt a wondrous release upon saying them.

"I love you. I have always loved you, though before I hadn't realized it. I hope telling you will ease your hardened soul as much as it has mine."

For a time there was silence, but before it could be broken, she left. On her way back to the palace, her spirit felt freer and lighter than it ever had.


	7. Spirit Festival

It was my friend's birthday a few days ago and I wrote her this fic as a present. She likes anything Azula / Ty Lee related. I have no idea what time this takes place, so I have no idea whether they're young or at their current ages in relation to the show. Look at it any way you want.

Also, the Spirit Festival is a real festival celebrating by those in China. They burn fake money and make offerings to their ancestors and the dead in order to placate them, so that they won't come and trouble the living.

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_**Spirit Festival**_

"I just love the Spirit Festival," Ty Lee said, her hands clasped together by her chin. The flickering lights from the paper lanterns that lined the stone-paved pathway illuminated her awe-filled face.

Azula folded her arms and looked away. Nobles and aristocrats walked the busy streets of the Capital city, also caught up in the festivities of the night. It was a ridiculous holiday, in her opinion.

"I see Mai decided not to come," she said finally, turning back to Ty Lee.

"Mm..." The girl clad in pink gazed around, looking disappointed. "I wonder if she's honoring her ancestors somewhere else."

A small bat fluttered overhead, its silhouette black against the stars in the sky. Azula followed its progress with her eyes. "Pity," she said. In all honesty, she knew Mai had probably just chosen not to come. She hadn't seemed too keen on the idea when Ty Lee had offered up the invitation earlier that day. Azula hadn't wanted to come either, but Ty Lee had been so eager...

"Oh well. Just us, I guess!" Ty Lee's countenance brightened up immediately. "Oh! Look!"

In the direction that the girl pointed was a large two-storied pavilion set up in the middle of the road. While the thousands of lanterns set up around the city along the paths lit it well, it still had a dark quality to it, which was due to the fact that it was painted a dark burgundy. A large sign by its entryway read "Haunted Crypt" in dripping red letters.

"I love haunted houses!" Ty Lee said, and without another word began walking toward the imposing structure. Azula had no choice but to follow, though she found herself skeptical of what excitement this new attraction would bring.

"Greetings!" the man standing in front of the pavilion said. He bowed deeply to Azula and then smiled at Ty Lee. He was wearing a white ceremonial robe, those worn by many during the Spirit Festival to honor those that were dead. "Welcome to the Haunted Crypt, where the forgotten spirits of the dead have been said to gather, seeking revenge for the lack of offerings from their kin."

"'Forgotten spirits'?" Azula repeated, brow quirked.

"That's right, princess." The man smiled, his thin mustache curving upward. "As you know, this night is the summer solstice, when the Spirit World and the Physical World are connected. On this night we offer burnt money and other gifts to our ancestors in order to—"

"Yes, yes. To keep them from coming back to haunt us," Azula finished, rolling her eyes and folding her arms.

"That's right." He was clearly put-off by her lack of enthusiasm. After a clearing of his throat, he continued, "This very spot on which this crypt stands is one of the portals that allows the dead to transverse into this world."

From the corner of her vision, Azula could see Ty Lee listening with rapt attention, eyes shining with apprehension in the glow of the paper lanterns. Of course she would be one to believe a story as ridiculous as this.

Noticing that at least one of them was engrossed by what he said, the man turned his focus onto Ty Lee. "Do you have the courage to enter and see for yourself, little miss?" he asked, bending forward and staring into her face.

Ty Lee hesitated, then looked to Azula, who shrugged. "We've nothing better to do," Azula said. She, for one, wasn't buying any of this.

"Oh, then yes!" Ty Lee said, now smiling. "Does it cost anything?"

The man straightened up and laughed. "No, no. No charge for the living," he said. "Though it wouldn't hurt to have something to offer to the spirits to appease them. Nothing worse than an angry spirit seeking retribution."

The inside of the pavilion was quite unimpressive, or at least the parts of it that they could see. It was almost completely dark inside, the only light being that of a lantern or two set up at random intervals on the floor. All of the windows were closed and shuttered, and the entryway was some ways back, the light from outside blocked by the immediate wall they had had to pass on their way in.

There were spider-fly cobwebs in some of the corners of the walls, though Azula had a feeling that they were fake, and some dusty, beat-up furniture were the only other decoration, one of those being a writing desk with only three legs.

"This place is creepy," Ty Lee said, pulling up close beside Azula, their shoulders touching.

"I don't see what's so creepy about it. It's just dark." With that said, she lit a flame in the palm of her hand, its blue light lighting up the place by some degree.

"Don't!" Ty Lee hissed, grabbing Azula's arm in earnest.

"What?"

"That spoils the fun, Azula," her friend said. She sounded almost desperate, as if _wanting _this experience to be scary.

"Fine." Azula sighed and extinguished her light, a bit confused about Ty Lee's behavior. Why would someone _want _to be scared if they didn't have to be?

Ty Lee pulled away at that moment and went ahead where the room ended in a fork-in-the-road of sort. She peeked around the corner on the left. "I don't see any ghosts," she said, her voice emanating disappointment.

"Of course not. Ghosts aren't _real_," Azula said.

Her friend looked back at her with a little pout, then went around the corner and out of sight, apparently determined to find something that didn't exist.

After sighing softly to herself, Azula moved forward to follow. However, as she turned the corner of the hallway, a horrible, grotesque figure of white leapt down in front of her from the ceiling. The appearance of the personage was so sudden that she didn't have time to decipher what it was. Immediately her instincts took over and she blasted the thing with as much fire as she possibly could.

There was a horrible scream of pain as the flames caught. Azula blinked.

"Azula!" Ty Lee came running out of the gloom toward her and put her hand to her mouth in horror when she saw what was happening.

It wasn't a ghost at all. It was a person. Dressed in white makeup and a milky silk gown. He—it was obvious a guy by the tone of his yelling—was rolling around on the floor in agony.

"Huh," Azula said, folding her arms and doing nothing to help. "I found your 'ghost', Ty Lee."

"What going on in here?" came a voice from behind. Torches on the walls that had been hidden in the dark were springing to life as the owner of the pavilion came running up to them. He stopped short when he saw the burning man rolling around on the ground. "What—Hao! By Agni, what happened to him?" He looked to Azula.

She shrugged. "He snuck up on me," she said. "You might want to have your ceiling checked if people are going and falling through it."

"But—! That's part of the appeal!"

"I think we'd better go," Ty Lee said, coming up to Azula and taking her by the arm.

They left the two men to their own devices, stepping out into the lantern-lit night. People were stopping to stare because of the horrible yells coming from within the pavilion, but she and Ty Lee ignored them and continued on.

"Well! That was exciting," Azula said, smirking.

Ty Lee giggled. "He really shouldn't have snuck up on you like that. But," her face fell somewhat. "We still didn't get to see any ghosts tonight."

There was a prickle of guilt at having ruined her friend's night, and then a prick of anger for feeling the guilt in the first place. "Well, we'll just have to keep looking, won't we?" she finally said.

What resulted was a big hug and a long night, but she didn't really mind, despite her making a show of the opposite.


End file.
